


closets and their relative safety

by queenoftheiceandsnow



Category: X Company (TV)
Genre: Closeted Character, Drabble, M/M, wartime angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenoftheiceandsnow/pseuds/queenoftheiceandsnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short and to the point. Questions without answers, and problems with solutions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	closets and their relative safety

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever feel so many things about a show that you post really short really old really haphazardly done fan stuff because you just nEED TO??

"Do you think Aurora knows?" Tom whispers as he stares at the ceiling, and he's met almost immediately with an irritated huff and grumble from Neil.

"For the last bloody time, go to sleep." He grunts.

The drafty abandoned house they've called home for the last twelve hours is dark as sin, but moonlight spills through the crack between the filmy bedroom curtains and puddles on the dusty wooden floor between them, illuminating them both and their makeshift blanket beds. He wonders if Neil has shut him out and forced himself to sleep, until he hears him shift a little under his blanket.

"What do you mean, do I think she knows?"

"You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed. This is the first time we've been ordered together in weeks."

Silence again.

"That doesn't mean anything."

He sounds uncertain. Not outright, but around the edges he doesn't sound so sure of himself. Like he wants to believe his own words, but can’t. Tom glances at him, and he hasn't moved - he's still lying with his back to him, the greying curls at his temple made even lighter by the moonlight.

"Maybe," Tom says eventually, sighing and looking back to the ceiling, "it just... Feels deliberate."

"And what the hell are we supposed to do about that?" Neil asks, and it's more of a snap than anything, sitting up and looking at Tom. The expression on his face is one usually reserved for life or death situations, demanding and desperate and lost all at once. "Say she knows. Then what? Do we wait for her to tell Sinclair? Get a dishonourable discharge, maybe worse? Do we run off, become deserters? What exactly do you expect will happen if Aurora knows, if our commanding officers find out?"

Tom goes silent. It's not often Neil has an outburst like that, and he almost never sounds that distressed when he does. He watches him and knows he's waiting for an answer, any answer, but he can't think of anything to say. Shockingly, his mind is blank. He has no witty retort for him, no sarcasm to offer. Neil’s as afraid as Tom is, and that’s very new.

Neil sighs, a breath that fogs in the chilly night air, and he shakes his head.

"Best to let her do what she's been doing. Whatever her reasons, Tom, you know they're for our own sakes." He says as he settles back down.

He doesn't turn his back to him, this time. He faces him, watching with eyes that show more of his own feelings than he thinks. Tom looks back at him and he's struck (not for the first time) with the unfairness of it all. Still, Neil is right. It's in their best interests not to bring it up, to keep doing what they’ve been doing for months and just bury it all.

A lingering silence falls, and they watch each other carefully, studying one another in the pale light. The slightest of smiles tugs at the corner of Neil's mouth.

"Tell you what, though..." he says, tentatively. "Aurora could've found a warmer house. I'm bloody frozen."

Tom huffs out a laugh, and watches the little cloud dissipate. "Yeah. Me, too."

There's a long pause, and then his lips twitch.

"I may have a solution."


End file.
